The Gift
by MissMac
Summary: After deserting the Battle of Blackwater, The Hound stays at an inn. The innkeeper offers Sandor a gift in hopes that the large man will not kill any of the inn's patrons. When this gift walks into his life, Sandor could not have prepared for where his life would now be taken. Sandor X OC **On Hiatus**
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Enjoy! This story will most likely be updated every few days, but at least once a week. Of course, it all depends on the readers and if you all want more, then I will give you more!

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"_Fuck the Kingsguard. Fuck the City. Fuck the King."_

When he'd said it the Hound had been fueled by wine, adrenaline and rage. _"You're Kingsguard, Clegane." _ The Imp had said. But Sandor knew the truth of what he was, a vicious dog with a need to bite. He'd been in enough battles to know when to regroup and when he had retreated the little fuck of an Imp had questioned him. _Hope that he's dead._ Sandor didn't hold anything against the half-man on a personal level, Sandor just hated everyone.

_Except her._

He had gone to her rooms find her. She'd come bursting through the door less than ten minutes later with her skirts bunched in her hands and a look of fear on her face. Sandor couldn't be sure of what she held more fear, he or the battle. He'd lost the adrenaline and the anger at the sight of her, but the wine still held its influence. He'd offered to keep her safe, to take her away. He knew she wouldn't agree to come but he had to offer. He'd grown attached to the Little Bird.

Sandor took another swig of his wine to drive the memories of the battle and of her from his mind. He'd left her there to her fate as he made his way out of the city. He'd ridden Stranger through the night and next day before he came across an inn with a room. He threw his clothes away, still smelling the smoke on them, for his own safety. He was as good as a deserter now. He was glad to have found an inn with a large store of wine. He was going to need it.

Looking around the inn he saw the lively group of patrons all enjoying their own drinks, most of them with a whore on their arm. The Hound spotted a girl, blonde like a Lannister, being yelled at by the Innkeeper near the back corner of the room. She stared defiantly into the man's face not even blinking when he began to raise his hand to her. He saw flashes in his mind of Sansa being beaten while the little shit of a King watched, no, _savored_ each strike. _I should have stopped them. Little Bird didn't fucking deserve it. _Sandor watched as the blonde girl, maybe a few years older than Sansa, was struck across the face.He saw her flinch the wrong way at first, as if expecting a strike from the other hand. Sandor felt no pity for the girl, assuming that she was just a whore he needed disciplining. _Little Bird didn't do anything wrong and she was still disciplined. Fucking Lannisters._

Sandor couldn't hear what was being said to the girl but did notice when the Innkeeper pointed in his direction quickly before dropping his hand. The large innkeeper, well into his fortieth year, grabbed the girl with the arm and thrust her in Sandor's direction. He caught the eyes of the Innkeeper and thought that the man had mouthed 'a gift'. The Hound let out a bitter snort. _Course he would have to beat the girl just to get her to fuck me._

As she came closer, Sandor took in the girl that was to be his gift this night. Her blonde hair was long, clean at least, and she wore it loose. There was something about a woman with her hair down loose that Sandor has always found arousing. He took another large gulp of wine from his cup as she continued to come closer. She trailed her finger tips along the tables on both of her sides, her hips swaying from side to side as she slowly made her way to him. Her body was curvier than what he usually found and fucked in the brothels, when he had enough wine to venture into one. She stopped more than five feet from him, a smile on her face despite the red mark on her cheek, and spoke in his direction.

"Do you require more wine, Milord?" Her voice was not soft like Sansa's, nor was it sickly sweet like the Queen's. Instead it held something within it that Sandor recognized as pain. He knew that tone well, for it could also be found within his own voice.

"Be gone, girl." It was as if she was waiting for him to speak to come closer. She walked closer to him and put her hands on the table in front of him. Her breasts were perfect height to be at his eye level. He stole a glance as the slightly exposed flash and she must have noticed. She spoke quieter now, trying to mask the pain in her voice with a seductive tone.

"A girl am I? I'd say that 'woman' better describes it." She again ran her fingertips along the table until they found his hand. He jumped at the soft touch, pulling his hand away with a sound like a growl. She pulled her hands away as well. Sandor looked at her face and saw that she would not meet his eyes. Paid whores and his Little Bird wouldn't look upon his face. He hated when they wouldn't look at him. He pushed to stand, the wine he had already ingested bringing his anger forth. He saw the noise startle the whore who stood before him. _Good. She should be scared._ When he was at his full height he noticed that this girl, while not being large, was not small framed. He always asked for the bigger ones at the brothels, not wanting to deal with preparing a woman. The small ones just couldn't handle a man of his size. _This one may take your mind off the Little Bird._ She thought he was going to leave, so she reached for him, grabbing hold of the front of his shirt. It was a daring move for a frightened girl.

"What's a pretty one like you doing here? Come for a bit of cunt and wine, milord?" He roughly took hold of the girl's shoulders, causing a slight whimper of pain to escape her lips. He did not loosen his grip.

"You think yourself funny?" Sandor wouldn't stand there and let this whore openly mock his scars. _How dare this girl. I could rip her in half with just my hands. _ He pulled her with him as he stormed to his room. The other patrons moved out of his way and the other whores gave the girl he drug behind him looks of pity, fear or a mixture of both. He didn't care. If this girl were to be his _gift _than he would use her and send her away so he could wallow in his drunken sorrows.

To her credit the girl did not struggle, this fact surprised Sandor. _First she has the guts to mock my scarred face then she accepts her fate without protest. So much like the Little Bird._ He shook the thoughts of Sansa from his mind and focused on the girl he would be bedding this night. He was mere feet from the room he was given when she twisted her arm from his grasp. He turned to chase after her but she did not run from him. She stood her ground and spoke with venom, despite looking towards the wall instead of him. _They never look at me._

"Do my compliments offend you so much, Milord? I've been taught that men enjoy flattery and yet you take offense to it." Sandor gave off a bitter laugh before setting the girl straight.

"I am no Lord." She gave off a bitter laugh of her own before quickly responding to him.

"You may not be a Lord outside this Inn, but tonight you are my Lord and I am your gift, given to you in hopes that you will be satisfied and won't kill anyone." She extended her hand to him in hopes that he would lead her into his room. She continued to speak but with a more seductive tone. "You wouldn't want to waste your gift, Milord. Please. Take me to your bed." The Hound wished that, just once, a woman would speak to him like that without having to be paid or forced. He shook his sentimental thoughts away and took hold of the girl again. She noticed his grip was not as forceful this time.

"What's your name, girl?"

"Roanya. And yours, Milord?" She was surprised that he had asked of her name. Not many men who she was thrown at took the time to find out. They just took their pleasure from her and sent her on her way. She was used to men doing that to her and had grown accustomed to the routine, almost comforted by it. She did not expect this man to be any different. _But he is. I can feel it. He's different. _Sandor shut the door once they had gotten in his room for the night. He walked up behind her and barely heard her sharp intake of breath. He ignored her question and instead decided it was time for this gift he had received to perform her trade.

"Undress me." She turned around and brought her hands to his chest, opting to start with the ties on his shirt first. She paused for just a moment as he spoke. "And don't call me your Lord." He closed his eyes and dropped his head back, trying to relieve the tension in his neck that had started in the Battle of Blackwater. _What a fucking disaster that was._ Roanya took her time undoing each tie, running her hands down his chest as she made her way to the next one. Sandor enjoyed her hands on his body. Most of the whores would come in, rip his clothes off, too frightened to take their time and then get right to it.

She took the bottom of his shirt out from inside Sandor's breaches and ran her fingers along the edges until her hands rested on his shoulders. She slid the shirt down his muscular arms until it fell to the floor, and then trailed her fingers back up his arms to rest around his neck. She gave his neck a tug and slowly brought her lips to his, as his afraid she'd miss. _Why does this whore even bother with this? _Sandor had never had a whore kiss him before, he'd never had any woman kiss him before that he could remember.

Roanya felt the strange texture of his lips as she moved her own against them. It was as if his right side was deformed. She moved her left hand up and was just about to touch the right side of his face when the Hound reached up to stop her. He held her hand in an iron grip and pulled his face back from her's as he spoke.

"Don't touch me there." She was taken aback by the strange request. Roanya always was too curious for her own good, wanting to feel what others told her not to touch. Wanting to hear what others said she shouldn't hear. Wanting to smell what she knew she not be smelt.

"Why not?" Although her voice held nothing but curiosity, Sandor took it as her mocking him once more and his anger came on full force. She had lifted her eyes to his face but still did not meet his own eyes, fueling his rage that much more.

"Look at me! Can't you see why I don't want you to touch me there? Tell me what you see!" He shook her. "Tell me!" She looked into his eyes for the first time and he saw that her eyes were glazed. At first, in his still slightly drunken state, he mistook the glaze for tears. But when she spoke he understood what it truly was.

"NOTHING!" She all but screamed an answer to his question. She took a shaky breath and spoke to him a bit quieter. "I see nothing." She felt the tears leaving wet paths down her cheeks and heard her own whispered voice. "I'm blind."

The Hound released her body and backed away. She couldn't see him or his hideous scars. It wasn't his face she was frightened of right in that moment, it was the man. _Me. It's me making her shake._

She ran to where she thought was the door, but instead met solid wall. Her hands felt around her frantically until she found the door. She was so embarrassed that she had let it slip out. She was scared that the Innkeeper would find out she had not slept with Sandor and then she would be beaten and maybe this time he would follow through with his threats and send her off on her own. As she ran from the room, she left him standing there, speechless.

Sandor didn't understand the uncomfortable feeling that settled over his body as he watched the girl run from his room. It had been nearly five minutes before Sandor made his way to the bed. He opted not to change his clothes and instead slept in just his shirt and breaches. As he drifted off into a wine-induced sleep, he hoped that in the morning he would forget Roanna and the events surrounding her so that he wouldn't have to deal with any of it. He had enough to worry about being a traitor that he didn't need any more problems.

But in the morning, Sandor would still remember.

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Sorry to those of you waiting for the update for "Bent, Not Broken". I promise you it will be up tomorrow sometime!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones or the Song of Ice and Fire series in which the characters were born.

Thank you for the reviews and alerts and favorite-ing on this story! And, of source, thank you for reading! I'm sorry that I didn't update this as quickly as I should have, even after your lovely responses.

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Roanya had never known anything but darkness. She may have been born to a Lord or maybe to a whore, she had never known. She had been found near death when she was just one year old by a maester on his travels. He was shocked to find one so young alone and yet alive. He knew that this girl would be a fighter. The old man had taken pity on the crying babe, and only when she opened her eyes did he see why she had been abandoned. The girl's eyes were cloudy, a sure sign that she was blind. She could not speak, being so young, and so he did not learn her tale. He kept her with him over the next years and taught her to use her other senses to make up for her lack of sight.

The Maester had been impressed by the girl's ability to survive without her sight. He didn't think that she would live for much longer after he took her in, but was glad to have been proved wrong. She had been twelve years when he had fallen ill and did her best to care for him. She learned the feel of different medicines from their textures and smells but her skills of healing were not enough to save his life. The small village that he had taken his vows to had turned their back on the poor child once her guardian was gone.

Roanya was taken in by the owner of a whore-house in the following months. He had told her that she didn't need her eyes to please a man, only her body and that he would provide her with food, shelter and clothing until she was old enough to work and pay him back. She agreed, having no other choice. Roanya did not know the feel of a man for two years, and by then she had mastered the skill of fucking without using sight. She became a favorite quickly because of her unique talents. She was adept at using her hands as her eyes, and so she could manipulate her fingers to find every inch of a man. Other whores would focus on the obvious places to please a man but she discovered secrets of a man's body that a woman with the ability to see would overlook. The men treated her well in return for her talents and she almost thought that she was happy with what life had given her.

Until one man decided that he wanted her for his own private uses in her sixteenth year. She was helpless to do anything when the man had offered the brothel owner to pay off Roanya's debt as a trade for her to now work for him. The brothel owner had agreed and Roanya was moved into the man's inn the following day. He treated her cruelly and yet she still fought him. If she had made it this far in her life, she would fight to make it even farther. The innkeeper, Matthar, had offered Roanya to men as a gift the first time, but once they had her, they rarely would they not want another taste. And so when Sandor had entered his inn, with what looked to be a rather large purse and an even larger sword, Matthar knew that he had to give Roanya to this beast of a man. That she couldn't see his hideous face was lucky for her. She put up a fight with him, as she always did, but a well-placed slap had been all she needed to remind Roanya what she was in the world. A whore to be passed from man to man.

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Sandor awoke the next morning and made his way down to find a meal. He looked around the dining hall trying to get a glimpse of the girl he was given but did not take. He hid behind his scars, never having to justify his actions. Everyone saw him as a monster, so he was free to act like a monster. But this girl didn't see him at all. It bothered him more than he thought it would to have to justify his actions. He had never given reasons for what he had done. He just did them. A cup of wine was placed in front of him and he drank it greedily without offering thanks to the man that had brought it. He noticed it was the innkeeper who had given him the gift that caused him a problem rather than pleasure.

"Did you enjoy your stay last night, My Lord?" Sandor made no move to answer him, instead trying to control the urge to strike the man before him. He hoped that Matthar would leave if he didn't answer him, but was sorely disappointed when the man continued to speak. "She could be yours again tonight, you know, for just a few pieces from your purse. She is worth every piece of gold you would spend though, wouldn't you agree? The way her hands work is truly a gift to men from the Gods." Sandor only had a small taste of what she could offer, but he had no doubt that what the man said was true. He chose to answer the man by connecting his fist with Matthar's jaw, hearing the cracking sound from the contact of bone on bone. Sandor strode from the inn with the intention of leaving, thinking the whole place far more trouble that it was worth. _And it's too fucking close to the Red Keep._ He didn't know where he would go, but he had a full purse and his horse and his sword and that was all Sandor needed.

As he made his way to where he had left Stranger for the night, Sandor heard the girl's voice along with the feint sound of splashing water. The sounds got louder as he got closer to his steed. He turned the corner of the stables and saw his horse grazing alone in a paddock, but did not see Roanya. He thought nothing of it, until her heard her sing. She had a sweet voice, just like his Little Bird, and Sandor couldn't control his feet as they following the sound coming from inside the stables. He entered the building and walked along the empty stalls until he came upon the girl. She was seated on a low stool next to a tub of water. At first glance he thought she was washing only clothes, but then saw the small body that she gentle poured water over. He made no sounds as he entered but she had someone heard him. Her hands continued their task of washing the child as she spoke to Sandor.

"Are you the man from last night?" Sandor was surprised that she knew he was there. _Only a seasoned man of battle would have sharp enough instincts to know I was here._ His interest in the girl was piqued. He may have been drawn to her on this morning by her song, but it was now her story that he was after.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Well if I didn't see you I must have heard you. Forgive me, milord, but even my son would know the answer to that question." She nodded her head towards the boy who now stared at Sandor. The boy looked to be around three years of age, with his blonde hair matching that of Roanya's. The boy's eyes were a piercing blue that Sandor guessed his mother would have also possessed had she not been born with cloudiness in her eyes. Sandor understood now why her body held more curves. _Her hips have been spread by child and from the size of him, I'd say he was no easy babe to bore._ The child spoke to his mother then.

"Mama, his face. It looks like the wood that comes out of a fire." Roanya had burnt herself many times on flames when she had been younger, but only once had it left a scare. She ran her fingers over the burn on her arm right forearm from the first time she had discovered fire. After the would had healed, except for the scar, she had spent hours near an open flame trying to the feel the degree of heat that meant she was too close. She would feel the skin lick her flames if she had not pulled away at the right moment. She was glad to have done this, as it meant that she could cook over an open flame now without risk of hurting herself. Roanya remembered how he had acted when she tried to touch his face. _Could his skin there feel the same as a charred piece of wood?_

"Sher, you know it's rude to speak of someone as if they are not in the same room." She turned towards Sandor, but only saw shadows. He noticed that when her face had turned it was as if she was looking straight into his eyes, but it was not intentional. _She only looks because she can't see._ "I'm sorry, milord. He's too young to understand proper manners." Sandor was about to leave when he heard the boy's voice once again.

"He's got a large sword, Mother. Is he a Knight?" He turned his innocent face to address Sandor. "Are you a Knight?" Sandor's lip curled in disgust. Roanya searched the ground for the blanket she had brought with to dry Sher after his bath. The boy stood, knowing that his mother meant for him to get out soon.

"I am no Knight."

"Then why do you need a big sword?" Roanya tried to shush her son as she took him out of the tub, but the boy had always been a curious child. She was grateful for her son, as he had acted as her eyes for the last year. Once he was able to speak and understand his mother, he had settled into the role very easily. _Children can adapt so easily._ She didn't know who the boy's father was, but she still loved the child more than anything. And she would protect him with any means she could, even from the man who stood before her.

"To silence little boys who don't know when to fucking shut up." Roanya had become used to threats and knew an empty one when she heard it. She heard it in the way the speaker's tongue stuck slightly to their mouth, as if they would regret having to follow through with the words that they spoke. The angry voice of the innkeeper nearby caught Roanya's attention. She knew that when he was angry, no matter the reason, she was the one that he enjoyed to beat. It was probably because he had yet to break her spirit and she would never let him. She quickly dried her son's skin and dressed him. He would need to go to his hiding spot soon if he were to remain untouched by Matthar's anger. She placed a kiss in her son's damp hair.

"Sweetling, go. Sing the song so you won't hear. Stay until I've come to get you." He nodded and Sandor watched the boy run out the stable door, turning to the right. She let out a sigh of relief and she stood to her full height. Sandor had never seen a woman accept her fate as easily as this one. _Little Bird accepted hers too._ He could see the girl before him bracing herself for the beating that was to come. He looked at her and saw the red mark from where she had been slapped just last night. He hadn't remembered until she fully turned her face towards him to speak. "You should leave as well, milord." And he did.

Sandor walked out of the stable and to his horse, fully prepared to leave. He heard the innkeeper shouting, followed by the sound of skin hitting skin. He was surprised that he didn't hear her scream. The innkeeper was asking her what she had done to upset 'the man' last night and Sandor froze. He realized that it was because of his anger and rash actions towards the innkeeper moments ago that the girl was in pain. An image of Sansa being beaten at the hands of the Kingsguard came to his mind. He couldn't save that girl from her pain, but now he was given the opportunity to save another.

"Fuck." Sandor stormed back to the stable, closing the distance in a few great steps. He caught Matthar's hand just before he stuck the girl once more and yanked him away from her. The hand that had been holding onto Roanya's hair had released its grip from the shock of the large man behind him. She fell to the ground and curled her body up to try and stop the pain. She only heard the blood pounding in her ears and did not know what had happened. Sandor twisted the man's arm back far enough that he heard the satisfying snap signaling that it had broken. The man screamed out and fell to his knees in pain.

"The girl didn't even scream when you beat her." Sandor spat at the man on the ground by his feet. He thought of all the men who had made Sansa scream and pictured that it was their faces in pain, instead of the man before him. He thrust his knee into Matthar's face the impact just enforcing the pain from the punch he had landed earlier. The man did not move and Sandor stepped over his body and to Roanya's form. She expected to feel the rough hands of Matthar but instead felt the softer hands of Sandor helping her to stand. He wasn't exactly gentle, but it was better than the pain she would have felt from Matthar. She tried to be strong and walk herself, but Matthar had landed a particularly nasty blow to her knee. Sandor practically carried her out of the stable and over to Stranger. The horse pawed at the ground, annoyed that he had been left waiting. He was about to put the girl on his horse, saving her from the fate that Sansa had condemned herself to, when he remembered the boy.

"Girl, I'll offer you this once. You and your boy come with me now, or when that man recovers the both of you will be beaten until you are dead." Sandor didn't want this girl to come with him. He wanted his Little Bird to be the one that clung to him as Roanya did now. But he knew that he couldn't turn away from the girl now. After he'd attacked the innkeeper for the second time, he had ensured her death. She vaguely nodded, her head spinning and her body aching. She told Sandor where to bring her to find her son. Sher was greeted with a strange sight when he came out from his hiding spot. Sandor held Roanya in his arms, like a newly married man in love would carry his bride. Sandor told the boy to follow and Sher did as he was told.

Stranger gave a snort when he realized what Sandor intended to do but made no other protest. Sandor set the girl and her son on to his horse and when they were steady, he untied the reins from the post. As he lead his horse down the road and away from the small village Sandor could only think one thing.

_What the fuck am I going to do now?_

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	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Thank you for the support of this story! I'm enjoying writing it, so I hope that you are enjoying reading it! I'm going to try and update a bit faster, since I'm having such lovely reviews. Keep those reviews coming and I'll keep the chapters coming!

Enjoy!

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Sandor could see the bruises starting to form on her arms a few hours later. He assumed that she would have more scattered throughout her body as well. The right side of her face was swollen and bruised but the left was nearly untouched. _How fucking ironic. Now we can match._ Each time Sandor had looked at the mother and son riding his horse, the boy had been staring back at him, directly at his scarred face.

"Like what you see, boy?"Roanya's armed tightened around the child, afraid that her son had upset the man. She knew that her son must have staring at the man, since she had encouraged him using his eyes since he could understand her. Sher had been her sight for the last year. She told the boy to run his eyes slowly over every surface and not to miss any detail. She taught him the way to describe things so that she would understand. She hated herself for using her son but she didn't know any other way to protect him. Roanya didn't know who her son's father was, which was one of the downfalls of bedding more men than one could keep track of. She discovered she was with child shortly after she had moved in with Matthar and he had tried everything to make her lose the child. But her little one was a fighter, just like its mother, and had come into the world.

"Yes, I like it. It's different." Sandor abruptly stopped, causing Stranger to stop as well. Roanya did not like where this was going. _He'll just leave us here. Why did I let him take us? Oh, Gods._ The Hound turned towards the boy and saw the way Roanya gripped her son. He knew she was frightened of him, that didn't bother him, but the reasons why she was frightened did. _She can't see me with her eyes but she is still frightened. Fuck. Is that why Little Bird didn't come with me? It wasn't my scars that scared her, it was the man who wore them._ She heard Roanya whisper in Sher's ear but did not make out the words spoken. Sandor did hear the boy's response. "It's like your arm, Mama. This one." He touched the burned scar on her arm and she gasped in realization.

"Ser, please, he didn't mean to offend. He doesn't understand." He looked from the boy to Roanya, the ugly bruises causing him to look away. He knew that she wouldn't see his cowardice to look upon her face. He had seen too many bruises on young undeserving woman recently.

"I am no 'Ser'."

"If you are not a 'Ser' and you are not a 'Lord', then what are you?" Sandor took note of the setting sun and knew they would have to make camp, for soon there would be no light for them to see. And he was not planning on carrying a torch to light his way. He led Stranger off of the road and into the neighboring woods in hopes of finding a safe place to rest for the night. The three travelers did not speak until Sandor had announced that they would camp for the night. He reluctantly helped Sher down and was surprised when the boy did not run off, like most young children would do. Instead the boy stood, running his fingers up and down Stranger's front leg softly. He lifted the girl off of his horse next, seeing the wince when his hands made contact with her sore body. She had not complained of her pain once, but he knew that she had to be hurting. She brought her hands to his shoulders, just near his neck, to steady herself as he took her down. He felt her fingertips slowly moving across the skin on his neck, the gentle caress feeling foreign on his mostly untouched skin. The whores never took their time with him, fucking him as quickly as they could so they wouldn't have to look upon his face for longer than necessary. _Not that they even fucking looked._ He set Roanya's feet on the ground and slowly removed his hands, not knowing if she could stand on her own. He gave him a smile that looked wrong amongst the bruised skin of her face. _No woman would smile through the pain like her. _

"I'd thank you properly but I'm afraid I don't know your name." She continued to run her fingers up his neck until she got dangerously close to what remained of his burnt flesh. He took his hands from her body and grabbed her wandering hands, pulling them off of him rougher than he had intended. Her hands were small inside of his, but he didn't doubt that they could do wonderful things to his body.

"Don't fucking touch me." He released her hands and saw he wobble on her feet, but his anger wouldn't let him move to assist her. He instead moved around her to remove his supplies from the pack attached to his saddle. He felt her move away from his body, and when he turned he saw her son leading her, their hands clasped together. He couldn't remember much of his own mother, but he wondered if she had shown the love he saw Roanya give if he would have still been the killer her grew to be. He shook his head to clear the sentimental thoughts. _Course I'd be a fucking monster. What else can I be, with my hideous face._

"Sher, gather some sticks. I'll need to make a fire if we are going to stay warm in the night."

"No!" The loud tone of his voice caused his pair of companions to jump. "No fucking fires. I have a blanket." He laid his bedroll out as if to prove his point, but she could not see it, so it did not have the desired affect he had hoped for. _Can't intimidate her by actions. I'll have to use my words._ She scoffed at him, her voice showing her annoyance.

"One blanket? For the three of us?"

"I never said it was for all of us." He went back to his saddle and took out a slice of bread, having no intention of sharing. He saved her from the inn but that didn't mean that he would take care of her now.

"Sher, gets sticks." She spoke to the boy who still held her hand and he nodded. His footsteps were eerily silent as he moved across the leaves on the forest floor. Sandor couldn't believe that this girl, this blind, beaten girl, would defy him. Even after he had saved her life. It pissed him off.

"Are you fucking deaf as well? No. Fires." Roanya knew the man would invoke her temper at some point. She had hoped to make it farther before it did. But when he had called her deaf as well, insulting her more than he knew, it had, rightfully, pissed her off. Sher had stopped his movements, watching the interaction between the adults, not truly understanding why the man wouldn't want to start a fire. But Roanya knew. _He must fear the flame, if his face is truly burned like Sher said it is._

"I will not allow my son to freeze because you can't handle being near a flame. We've all been burned by fire before. Even a child learns that it's nothing to fear if you are careful. Sher, sticks, now." The boy wandered a few more feet away and obeyed his mother. Sandor took a few large steps towards the girl who he was starting to regret he had saved. He didn't need the trouble that she surely would offer him. He got close enough that she could feel the heat from his skin, and the anger coming off of him. His anger felt like water boiling over a flame. Controllable, but ready to overflow at any moment.

"This is MY camp. You want a fire, then go, build one. Leave. I'm done with you. I saved your life and owe you no more." Roanya panicked at the thought of him forcing her to leave, she would never be able to survive in the woods with only her three year old son. They would die within a few days. _But we may die from an illness if we do not stay warm tonight._ She would rather take her chances with the cold for one night, than face her certain death if they left the safety the man could provide.

"Please, I'm sorry. Don't force us away, I beg you. Don't save me just to push me to another death. Because surely that is what will happen if I leave this camp." She looked so weak and pathetic in that moment that Sandor couldn't help but compare her to his Little Bird once more.

"Do what you want. But no fire." She called her son back to her and her boy took her to a spot with no tree roots. The pair sat down, the boy curling in his mother's lap, and he did not hear anything more from them as he sat on his bedroll eating his bread. The boy broke the silence nearly an hour later, just as the sun had set. He did not hear the words he spoke so quietly to his mother, but only heard her spoken response.

"I don't know, Sweetling. Just try and sleep. Would you like me to sing you a song?" The boy curled even deeper into her and closed his eyes. Sandor almost wanted to close his eyes and sleep as well as she sung, wishing his own mother would have held him so tenderly as a boy. Instead he had the painful hands of Gregor as his only childhood memory. "You're a sweet little baby. You're a sweet little baby. Honey and the rock and the sugar don't stop, going to bring a bottle to the baby. Don't you weep, pretty baby. Don't you weep pretty baby. He's long gone with his red shoes on, going to need another loving baby. Go to sleep little baby. Go to sleep little baby. You and me and the devil makes three, don't need no other loving baby." She kept rocking even after he had fallen asleep, he could see that the motions of her body were bringing her pain. Sandor had to give her a bit of respect, seeing the way that she sacrificed herself for her son. He stood from his bedroll, bringing the blanket over to the seated girl. He said no words as he wrapped the blanket around her and the sleeping child.

"Thank you." Her voice was soft, not wanting to wake the child that had just fallen asleep in her lap. He gave her a grunt in response and started to walk away until she spoke again. "We could all stay under this blanket, if you held me, like I hold him. It would keep us all warm." He didn't want to lower himself to admitting that she had a point. She heard him moving away and thought that he wouldn't agree to her suggestion. But when she heard his footsteps come back towards her, the sound of his bedroll hitting the ground behind her, she knew he had seen the logic. She removed the blanket from around her shoulders while he positioned his back against a tree. His arms lifted the pair and she settled into his lap, her back against his chest. Sandor pulled the blanket up around them all, not entirely uncomfortable having the woman in his arms. He had spent so many nights without a fire to warm him that he thought that he might actually enjoy the warmth that she would provide in the night. _Nothing wrong with holding a woman in the night. And there is no one here to see us._ The boy stirred a bit in her arms at being jostled but Roanya started to sing once more. Sandor leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes, allowed the girl's voice to wash him into sleep as well. Without being able to see the girl in front of him, he could almost imagine that it was Sansa he held to him in the night singing. Roanya's sweet voiced lulled the man behind her into a light slumber, but she knew a man like he would never fall deep enough into sleep to leave himself open for attack. _If only I could touch his face, then I could feel what makes him the man he is. _

With that thought on her mind, Roanya allowed sleep to overtake her as well. To anyone passing them in the night, the trio would look like a family, the way they all clung to each other to keep out the cold. But no one saw the sweet scene until the boy awoke the next day. He got out of his mother's arms and the girl shifted slightly at the loss of heat. She snuggled closer into the man that had saved her, her mind not processing what her body did while she slept. Sher smiled at the peaceful look on his mother's face. He knew that she deserved to be happy and wondered if this burned man would be the one to bring her that happiness.

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The song that Roanya sings, I do not own. It is "Didn't leave nobody but the baby", which is famous from "Oh, Brother, where art thou?" Great song...for a great story? Do you think this is great? Well, I do! Hope you enjoyed it! Until next time…


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Thank you all for the responses to this story. Wow. Just amazing! And thank you to those who are reading and enjoying, but not reviewing. I feel like you silent readers don't get enough love. I appreciate each person reading this! Loves to everyone! Okay, enough of that. On with the story! Enjoy!

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Roanya awoke in a panic at not feeling Sher in her arms. She got up as quick as her aching body could, elbowing Sandor in the process. He pulled a knife in response to his quick awakening.

"Sher? Oh, Gods, Sher." She was in such a panic because she couldn't see her son that she didn't bother trying to hear for him or feel for him either. She didn't have to wait long for his answer, since the boy merely sat at her feet.

"Yes, Mama?" She fell to the ground next to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. She felt the wetness of her tears sliding down her cheek. They were tears of relief that he son had not been hurt or taken in the night. _Gods, I'm foolish for sleeping. Anything could have happened to him._ She pulled back and spoke to him, more out of anger at herself than at him.

"Why would you do that to me? You should have woken me up or stayed by me." The Hound saw the boy look away from his mother in shame. Sandor had sheathed his knife once he became fully awake. He rubbed the spot on his stomach that Roanya had assaulted in her hurry to stand. He was almost relieved at how they had awoken. He didn't know what to do if he would have woken and had to deal with holding a woman in his arms. It had been easy last night, in the dark with his eyes shut, because he could picture Sansa. But now, in the light with his eyes open, he only saw the whore that had meant to be a gift to him. _But this gift comes with a price._ Sandor spoke, surprising the woman that knelt at his feet.

"You can't coddle the boy forever. Let him go off alone or he'll be stuck to your teat until you die." Sandor paused but spoke again once a thought hit him. _That boy can't learn to survive from his blind mother. These two are doomed._ "Or he does." Roanya stood and faced the man, seeing only the shadows cast by his body. She could tell he was a large man, large than most, and knew that one strike from him and she would be dead. But she would not stand for a stranger telling her how to raise her son.

"Oh? Coddle him, do I? And how many sons have you fathered to know how it should be done?"

"Haven't fathered any, Gods aren't cruel enough to allow that." She held a triumphant look on her face, but Sandor was not done speaking. "But I did stand by and watch one boy be raised into a man. His mother coddled him, too. And that boy allowed it and he was a spoilt child, but that child became a man. A cruel, sick twisted man, with a need to hurt anyone who made him feel like his mother had once made him." Sandor thought of the way Joffrey had ordered Sansa to be beat. He knew that the boy held some sick obsession with her and once the power went to his head she had been the only one to make him feel weak. _It only takes a fucking woman to make any man feel weak._ Joffrey may not have felt affection towards Sansa, but she still pulled emotions from him that the fucked up boy-king couldn't handle.

"Are you speaking of yourself?" Roanya's triumphant looked had turned to one of fear as Sandor spoke. She wondered if he was the boy in the tale and that he would hurt her if she made him feel anything. Her body ached were Matthar's painful blows had landed, and she could only imagine the strength that the man in front of her could possess. She didn't want to find out just how long his patience would last and vowed to herself to keep her temper in check.

"No." He gave her no more explanation and the two stood in silence. Roanya could hear only the sounds of the forest around her. The sway of the leaves on the trees, sounding almost like a gentle stream of water. The crunch of the twigs under her feet on the forest floor, like the popping of wood in a fire. She felt her son put his small hand into hers. She gave his hand a squeeze, reassuring the boy that his mother was there for him. His small voice broke the silence in their small camp.

"I'm sorry, Mama. I'm just so hungry." She started walking but Sandor saw that it was the boy who truly led her to him.

"Ser, I know you've done too much for us already, but could you spare some food for my son? Just a few bites, he doesn't eat much."

"I'm no cook, wench. And I'm no 'Ser' either." Roanya tried to remember the vow she had just made moments before to control her temper. But the man before her was beyond infuriating. _One minute he holds me in the night and the next he calls me a wench and refuses us food. Gods help me so that I do not kill him._ Roanya knew she never could follow through with the empty threat and kill a man. Without her sight she would be struck down once her body was in range of his sword.

"Fine, _Ser_. We will just find our own food." She gave Sher a small tug on his hand to indicate to him that he should start to follow the path back to the main road they traveled. Roanya knew from the Maetser than had raised her how to identify wild berries without relying on her sight. He made her feel them and he described them with such immense detail that Roanya had been able to tell him which were poisonous and which were safe. Berries would have to do for the pair until she could get to a Sept or a town where she would be taken in. Until then, she would have to rely on the stubborn and intriguing and slightly terrifying man who had saved her. "And you can call by my name instead of 'wench'. It's Roanya."

Sandor turned and gathered the supplies in anger. He tied his bedroll and the blanket to his saddle and roughly untied Stranger's reins from the tree. He stormed after her, Stranger trotting beside him. No one, man or woman, had been so…so…insolent towards him. To Sandor, women were good for two things: fucking and cooking. And she had yet to provide him with either. He caught up to the pair standing near a bush full of black berries. His eyes widened in recognition when he spotted the familiar poisonous fruit just before the boy put them in his mouth. He lounged for the boy's hand that traveled to his mouth, pushing Roanya to the ground in the process and made it in time to smack the berries away. If the boy would have put them in his mouth, he would have been dead within the day. _Fuck. Was I too late? Did he ingest any?_ He turned to the fallen girl.

"You fucking idiot! You are feeding him Nightshade!" He could tell by the look on her face that she understood the significance of what he had just done. He had saved her and her son, once again. She hated herself and her inability to see, just as she did whenever Sher suffered from her disability.

"He said they were blue. He said the berries were blue!" He heard the pain in her voice as she was hit with the full weight of what could have been. Her son would have died and she would have never forgiven herself for it. Sandor turned towards the confused boy and saw so sign of the juices on his lips, but had to be sure. He lifted the boy and held him eye to eye.

"Did you eat any? Fucking TELL ME!" Sandor would not have this child's death on his head. If only he would have shown them another kindness and spared a bit of food, the child's life wouldn't hang in the balance. Even just one or two berries ingested and the boy would die. The small boy shook in fear, unable to speak. Sandor felt Roanya's hands on him, trying to get her son back from the large man who held him. Who had saved them, once again. He nearly shook the boy to try and force an answer out of him when the soft voice of Roanya met his ears.

"Sweetling, did you eat any of those berries? Please tell me you did not." The boy began crying and Roanya felt her world crash down around her. She took his tears as a sign that he had eaten some. "Oh, Gods, I've killed him. I've killed my baby."

"No…Mama. I...didn't eat…any." His words were spoken between sobs, but the adults were still able to get the message Sher tried to speak. A relief settled over the pair, realizing that the boy was crying from fear rather than knowing what he had almost done. The boy didn't understand why he was being yelled at by the man. He was only hungry and wanted to eat and the berries had been there and he told his mother what they looked like and she said they were safe. Did his mother lie to him?

Sandor thrust the boy into his mother's arms and walked back to where he left Stranger. The horse was used to Sandor's loud voice and had not shied away. He tore open the pack where he kept his provisions and took out a few pieces of bread. He led his horse over to them and put the bread into the hand that Roanya was not using to support the boy in her arms. She felt the smooth texture of the bread in her hands, feeling crumbs falling through her fingers, and knew that he had given her the gift of food. Instead of a single morsel, he had given her more than enough for both her and her son to be full for the day. Before she could thank him, his deep voice washed over her.

"I didn't waste my time saving you just for you to kill yourselves. You can't fucking see the dangers in front of you, yet you think you can survive? How have you made it this long without killing yourself?" She wanted to tell him that she had tried to take her own life, shortly after the Maester that raised her had died. She wanted to tell him so that he would take pity on her and feel the need to be kind to her. She realized that he had, in his own way, been more than kind. He had saved her from the place where she would have been beaten until she was dead, then he kept her warm in the night, and now he had saved her son from death, both by giving him food and knocking the berries from the boy's hand. The very berries that she had told him to eat. She did not hide her tears from the man before her, seeing no need to. He already thought her stupid and weak, what did it matter if he saw her tears. He couldn't think any less of her. She didn't know just what Sandor thought of her. Sandor truly could not believe that despite her blindness, she had adapted and survived when others with her same circumstances had perished. And to be able to raise a boy like Sher, who seemed obedient and well-mannered enough, alone despite having no sight was something he had never heard of being done. Cersei fucking Lannister couldn't even raise a normal child, and she had every resource available to her.

"Thank you. For everything you've done. You say you are no 'Ser', but your actions are that of a Knight." He ignored her, not wanting to hear words of praise. He didn't deserve words of praise after all of the deaths and things that he had caused. He saw that this girl, and her son, could be sent from the Gods to him to make him redeem himself in their eyes for what he had done. She may have been a gift to him from the innkeeper, but in that moment, Sandor saw her for what she truly was to him. A gift from the Gods to lead him on a trail of repentance.

"Can you walk today?" Roanya couldn't believe that he had asked her that. She had expected him to storm off and expect her to follow him. He had surprised her very much since she had first run from his room that night, after she had tried to touch his face.

"I'd prefer to ride…but only if you don't mind." He nodded his head, even knowing that she couldn't see him, but he was so used to being silent. The sniffling boy in her arms spoke to her but too softly for Sandor to hear. "Sher would like to walk, though." She set the boy down at her feet and let out a gasp of surprise when Sandor lifted her in his arms. She felt the strength that he contained under his fingertips. She knew that if he would offer it, he could keep her safe. He set her onto his horse and she shifted so that she was balanced. She grabbed his hand in hers before he could pull away. She knew that he would not accept her spoken thanks, but wanted to show him just what his actions meant to her. She brought his hand to her mouth and placed a soft kiss on the inside of his wrist. He didn't realize the pleasure that a woman could bring by touching him there. It was an intimate gesture, and Sandor had never felt the feelings that intimacy could bring. He only had felt what a woman felt like as he fucked her. He didn't pull his hand away, enjoying the feel of her soft skin on his. He stood on her left side, and could not see the bruises that colored the right side of her face. Being so close, he saw the beauty that she held and felt unworthy of her attentions. Just as he was unworthy of his Little Bird.

"Thank you." She spoke her thanks against the sensitive skin of his wrist and he had to resist shuddering from the feeling of her breath ghosting across. He thought of the innkeeper's words and knew that he spoke the truth about this girl. It would be worth every coin spent just for a night of pleasure with her. She released his hand and Sandor turned from her to see her son looking at him. He brushed passed the boy who was alive because of Sandor's actions. The boy didn't need to be told to follow, as Sandor heard the small footsteps following his own. He kept his eyes trained on the path before him, not knowing where it would take him.

If he would have looked back, he would have seen Sher stepping only in the footprints that Sandor left in the soil, mimicking the man step by step.

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Gods, I love writing this story! Who loves me right now? Let me know with one of those lovely reviews that keep me going! And yes, this story will more than likely be updated daily just like Bent, not Broken. I have you lovely readers to thank for making me late for work just to get this chapter out. Who am I kidding, I loved writing this chapter! Until next time, stay classy my friends.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Thank you for the support, once again! Here is the next chapter of "The Gift"!

Enjoy!

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Roanya's body was sore and had yet to fully recover, but she did not complain once. Sandor would see her wince when her son would embrace her and unintentionally grab one of her bruises. She hid the ones on her arms and legs but she could not hide the ones on her face. Sandor had resigned to giving them food each day and holding them for warmth each night, never admitting that he was becoming used to the feel of Roanya's body in his arms. He had begrudgingly agreed to look for Sher upon waking if the boy was not in his mother's arms. He preferred that to being assaulted each morning. The three had settled into a daily routine. In the mornings they would leave quickly, destroying any evidence that they had been in the spot the night before. He didn't want anyone following them. Sandor would take out some bread and give it to the pair as well at himself. No one complained that they hand to eat the same slightly stale bread each day, not even the boy. From what he remembered of Joffrey at Sher's age, children complained frequently and loudly. But this boy did not. He was quiet unless speaking of things to his mother. Sandor had truly been in awe at the way the pair was able to communicate. The young boy was able to make his mother see things using only his words and describing what something looked or felt like. Sher had begun to ask Sandor questions, like where he came from and why he took them with him and where they were going and why they went the way they went. Sandor never answered the boy, but did not take offense to all of the questions. Sandor just simply stopped hearing them.

Roanya had fallen into a bit of a depression at the thought of almost killing her son by telling him the Nightshade was safe. It was not exactly her fault that the boy had mistaken the lighter shade of black for a darker shade of blue. The Nightshade he meant to eat was still in its early stages of bloom, and anyone would have made the same mistake. He did not reassure the woman, but didn't mock her anymore for her mistake. He didn't want to see her tears anymore. Each time he saw them he thought of his Little Bird and her tears each time a man would strike her. Sandor had been able to reason his way out of assaulting her, but only just. He had felt his anger growing each time the boy King had commanded she be struck. If he had to choose a moment when he had wanted nothing more but to leave, that would have been it. The moment that the boy he had protected for years had become King and changed from a whiney boy into a demented, sick, twisted, fucked-up young man. The Hound was glad to be rid of them all. But he didn't exactly want to trade those problems for a set of new ones. Two new ones. That clung to him as if their very life depended on it. And in truth, their lives did depend on him now.

The sun had just cracked over the horizon but Sandor had been awake for nearly an hour. He felt the boy shift out of Roanya's arms and watched him through hooded eyes as he walked a few feet away. He heard the tell-tale sign that the boy was relieving his bladder and Sandor rested his head back against the tree. He felt the roughness of the bark against his scalp, which was in contrast to the softness of the woman in his arms. Just as the morning before, Sher came back into sight but did not return to the adults who he thought still slept. Instead he sat in Sandor's line of sight nearly ten feet away with his back turned. He had yet to discover what the boy did, but the moment his mother would awaken he would stand, stomp his feet in the dirt and then return to her. _He is her dog just as I am the Lannister's. Was. I am that man no more._ Roanya shifted against him and he saw her eyes open. He had seen a blind man once before who never closed his eyes, and was glad that she did. Sandor whispered to Roanya, not yet opening his eyes, before the panic took over her at the emptiness in her arms where her son had been the night before.

"He is there." Roanya nodded her head and moved her body so that she lay sideways against his chest. Her head rested over his heart and the steady beat was lulling her back into sleep. Her legs were draped over his right leg and her arms were crossed in front of her chest. His left arm supported her back while she sat between his legs on the ground. He thanked whatever Gods would listen to him that no one had come upon them. He would have to kill anyone that saw him holding a woman so tenderly, his currently company excluded. One was a girl without sight and the other was a boy who would pose no threat to him. He would show them the softer side that he had only shown his Little Bird. But once they entered a town for supplies her would distance himself from the pair, not wanted him to be thought weak to the strange townsfolk.

Roanya unfolded her arms and brought her left hand to rest on top of his right arm, which had been resting over her legs. She felt the muscles of his forearm tense at her touch, but she continued when he did not pull away. Her fingertips explored his skin as she skimmed up toward his bicep. She felt the hair on his arms and was reminded of the downy fur of a newborn foal. Sandor's eyes were closed as he felt Roanya's fingers explore his arm, and he imagined it was another who so bravely wanted to touch him. She did not rush but took her time, as if forcing her fingertips to find and memorize every contour, every dip, every scar. She did not speak, known that once she did, the man beneath her would shove her off as he did every morning previous to this one. Her hand moved down and he felt her thumb brush the sensitive skin on the inside of his elbow. _Any skin become sensitive under her touch._ Encouraged that he had yet to stop her, Roanya brought her right hand to join her left. She was surprised when he allowed her to lift his arm slightly to place it across her lap. His hand rested at her left hip and his arm set on her thighs. She placed her hands around his arm, the hands not big enough to fully surround it, and slowly, almost painfully slow, ghosted her fingertips up his arm once more. She continued up to his bicep, he leaning forward slightly to allow her better access, and she felt for the first time just how muscled this man was. She knew that he could crush her with one strike, and with Sher he wouldn't even need to do more than life a finger to the boy. She hoped that whatever spell she had put him under to keep his anger from showing would hold. She could feel the power and anger and hatred and death under his skin. It was like smoke from a raging fire. You could see it, feel it, know it was there, but you couldn't stop it or control it. Only by taking the flame away could you take away the smoke, and even then it would linger for minutes before finally vanishing into the air. She needed to keep this man from whatever would fan the flames of his anger. And her touch seemed to be doing this trick at the moment.

"Mum?" The trance that Sandor had been in was broken as the boy's voice brought him back to reality. He had been imagining his Little Bird was the one exploring his body and not the whore in his arms. _She doesn't want to touch me, she's just a fucking whore. _Sandor angered at thought, more angry at himself for his sentimental thoughts than at the girl who has caused them. She knew that the anger was coming from the way his body tensed. She didn't want to fan the flames of his anger and removed her hands from him slowly before standing from his lap. She heard him move behind her to stand as well.

"Yes, love?"

"There are men coming." Sandor snapped his head in the direction the boy pointed. He could barely hear the faint steps of men on the forest floor and marveled at the fact that the boy had heard. _I would have heard before, but I was too lost in the girl's touch. Fuck._ Sandor didn't know if the men that made their way towards him were Lannister men or Stark men of Baratheon men, but no matter whom they fought for, the men would benefit from bringing the Hound to their Lord. As they walked closer to him, Sandor tried to make out how many different voices and footfalls he heard. He didn't know the exact number, but it was more than five from what he guessed. By himself, he could take on an entire army, but now that he had a woman and her child relying on him, he wasn't sure he could kill the men while protecting the pair. He had never had to protect anything, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

"Hide. Now." Sandor motioned with his head towards the thick of the forest, but only Sher saw his motion. He pulled his sword from its sheath and readied himself for the kill. He was ready to shed some blood and feel like a true man again. The boy pulled Roanya towards the direction that the man motioned. The pair ran into the forest for a few moments before Sher told his mother of a fallen tree to hide behind. She crouched down, bringing her son into her arms. She prayed to the Seven that the man was as strong and skilled as she thought he was. They heard the sound of shouting voices before hearing steal crashing down on steal. The sounds of death toyed with Roanya's ears and she began to sing to her son to drown out the sounds from his young ears. Within moments the sounds of the fight had silenced and with it Roanya stopped her singing. She didn't know who had been the victor, but if it had not been the man who took her from the inn she didn't want anyone else finding her. She didn't think any other man would be as kind to her as he had been thus far. She heard the heavy footsteps of a man through the forest, walking directly towards her. For a moment she was frightened that the group had overpowered him and someone had spotted her running. She didn't hear the voices of any men so she reasoned with herself that he had won. _But wouldn't he call to me?_ She felt her fear creep over her, like someone had poured it onto her head from a cup. She tightened her grip on her son and tried to concentrate on the pattern of the man's footsteps. She realized just how close they were and she cursed her eyes for not being able to see if it was friend or foe who was no near. A single tear ran down her cheek but she remained silent. Only when the man stood behind her and grabbed her shoulder with his hand did she scream.

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A bit short, but I wanted to end it there so I could get this updated before work. Was it everything you could have ever hoped for? Leave a review and let me know!


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Ok. Bit of a warning before this chapter. I should have put this notice earlier but this one is rated M because Roanya is a whore and whores please men. Men named Sandor. Hint, hint.

I am sorry that I haven't updated this in a few days. I had to get through finals and that really fried my brain! But I'm "back in the game" now!

Enjoy!

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"You're alright, girl." The man that stood behind her spoke, and Roanya recognized the tone of her nameless companion. She did not loosen the tight grip she had on her son as Sandor pulled her to her feet, but she did silence her scream of fear. Her breathing was harsh and her hair wild as she turned her face in the direction she had heard his voice. She shifted Sher's weight to support him with one arm and swung at Sandor with the other. Her open palm hit against his left bicep but Sandor barely felt more than a tap. He looked to the place where her hand had made impact as if trying to process that the girl had actually struck him. After just killing five men in a matter of moments, the only blow he could think about was the one that just happen. Women didn't _hit_ him. They were fearful of him, disgusted by him, they sunk away in the shadow from him. They did not stand before him, unafraid, and have the audacity to strike him. He looked back to her face and saw the hard expression she wore.

"What are you thinking, walking up here without saying who you are? What if I would have had a knife and cut into your flesh when you got close enough? You could have—"

"I just fucking killed men, and you, a girl I could cut down without effort, think it's a smart thing to speak to me like this?" When she had hit him, Sandor became more confused about the whore in front of him. She had kissed him so tenderly that first night at the inn, she had smiled at him over the last days and now she hit him. No other woman had done these things to him and it made Sandor feel something…different. He felt that it was the same lust that he had for Sansa, but it was…different. The woman before him was…different. Sandor didn't want _different_ in his life right now.

"I think it smart to announce yourself to someone who cannot see before grabbing them! You forget that I've lived in constant fear my entire life, unable to see who is before me. Show some courtesy and maybe—"

"I just saved your _fucking_ life, girl! You show some _fucking_ _courtesy_ or the next time I'll let the men have you and go on my way without a fight or you as my burden!" Sandor didn't mean it, but it was safer to instill fear in the girl so that he wouldn't have to deal with the way her smiles and gentle caresses in the early morning hours made him feel. Sandor didn't want to feel different. He didn't want to feel anything. He saw Roanya's mouth open, but the voice that he heard was the boy's.

"Mum, what's 'fucking' mean?" Sandor and Roanya halted their battle of wills at the small voice. Sher had his head laid against his mother's shoulder as he silently listened to them speak. He had never heard his mother raise her voice or seen her raise her hand to a man before but he trusted his mother to do what she needed to in order to survive. He knew that Matthar had been the one to put bruises on her, but never knew why. He had gotten a bruise once from falling on a rock and it hurt, and he didn't understand why someone would want to make someone hurt like that. He wondered if the large man they traveled with would put more bruises on his mother. And as children have no filter between their minds and their mouths, he asked Sandor that very question aloud. "Are you going to put bruises on my Mum like Matthar did? Matthar did that a lot and he always said 'fuck' before he did it, right Mum?" He lifted his head and turned it so he could look at Sandor as he spoke. "Mum told me to go hide but sometimes I didn't and I heard it all. Mum says 'hear with your ears what you can't see with your eyes' and she didn't want me to see so I had to just hear."

Sandor hated children because of their innocence. Blind innocence like theirs did not belong in the world that was filled with hate and death and pain and war. Sandor also hated children because he didn't know how to act around them. Roanya didn't know how to answer her son's questions. She had no doubt that when angered enough the man would strike her. That was what men did when they were angry. _But they don't hit when they are happy._ Roanya hated that her body was just a tool to bring pleasure, but she hadn't known much else in the past years. She would have to use her body as a tool to ensure her safety, keeping the man happy from pleasure instead of making him angry with her words.

Sandor walked away without answering the child but knowing that he would never strike Roanya. She reminded him too much of his Little Bird to be able to hit her. If he hand ever touched her flesh aggressively it would only be Sansa's face that he would see. _Gods, these fucking women will be the death of me._ He heard Roanya speak words to her son, and the boy respond but he tuned out anything else but his thoughts. _Why can't I just fucking leave her like I left Little Bird? She's so fucking weak but brave enough to stand up to me. Little Bird wasn't even brave enough to do that._ Sandor made his way to the camp and realized he was leading a child right into a bloody scene. He took hold of Stranger's reins and walked through the thick of the woods to intercept the pair before they came upon the evidence of how dangerous Sandor truly was.

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When they had made camp that night Sandor found himself alone with the boy. Sher had led Roanya into the woods and come back alone. He offered the explanation that Roanya needed a moment alone. Sandor assumed that was an embarrassed mother's way of telling her son she needed to piss. Sandor had been standing, leaning against a tree and staring at nothing, until Sher came to stand in front of him. The two stared at each other for a moment before Sher simply sat down near Sandor's feet and began to draw in the dirt. Sandor pushed off the tree to make space between the boy and himself when he heard the child's voice. His small hands continued to manipulate the soil as he spoke.

"I like to draw. But Mum can't see it like she can see other things because every time she touches it, the dirt moves and she can't find the lines anymore to see it."

"She can't see anything."

"She can with her hands. Like your face, if you let her touch it she would know what it looks like." Sher didn't notice the change in Sandor at the casual mention of his scarred face. The Hound had become accustomed to people, young and old, men and woman, just looking away and pretending the right side of his face didn't exist. And now he had a whore and her son around him that would not look away. "Mum told me that her ears have to be her eyes because she can't see. And when it's dark at night and I can't use my eyes I use my ears like Mum taught me. She cries at night. It's quiet but it still wakes me up sometimes and I have to go away from her because I don't like when Mum cries."

Sandor understood why the boy would always be sitting away from them in the mornings. He had never been woken up by the girl crying, but his ears were trained to hear threats in the night not the tears of a woman. He looked at the picture that the boy had made in the dirt. To him it wasn't anything more than a series of lines, but the boy must have seen something different. The way his young eyes focused on his task was out of place for a boy his age. Sandor held that same look in his eyes when he was a boy, but his focus had been on Gregor. The boy turned his eyes farther up to meet the Hound's and Sandor was reminded of Roanya's own cloudy blue eyes. The boy looked just like his mother and Sandor was surprised that he knew that. _I have been looking at her too much._ The boy stood and pointed at the drawing he had made in the dirt.

"Do you like it, Ser? It's a boat, see? I've never been on one but I'd like to. Mum says we can take a boat across the Narrow Sea one day!" Sandor had forgotten what it was like to be as innocent and carefree as a child. He had seen too much death, most of it caused by him, to remember the feeling. As the boy looked up at him expectantly he had wanted to just walk away, feeling awkwardness at the situation. But instead he gave the boy a nod of approval. When the boy's bright smile lit up his little face Sandor nearly turned and ran. He was glad to have just slaughtered five men earlier that day or he would have forgotten exactly what he was. The tender moment with Sher did not last any longer, for which Sandor was relieved, as the boy heard his mother calling to him. Sher ran off to retrieve his mother and Sandor shook his head, not really sure why he had humored the boy. _I need to fucking kill something again to feel like a man._ He pulled out his knife to examine it, testing the sharpness of the blade against his finger and then waited for the pair to return.

When they did, Sandor had told the woman to start a small fire and that he was going to hunt for rabbit. Roanya perked up at the thought of a meal other than bread and Sher started to gather wood. He returned a short while later with his skinned kill and offered the meat to Roanya to cook. She accepted it with a smile and word of thanks and skewed the meat so she could properly cook it. Sandor sat on a stump a ways from the fire and watched the blind girl work around the flame. She seemed to be doing a dance with her hands, the way she would slowly bring her hands to the edge of the fire and then caress the outer flames until she found the spit where the rabbit meat lie. She brought her hand too close to the fire only once and Sandor heard her hiss but give no other signs that she had been burned. Her son sat next to her, guiding and helping her if needed. He truly hoped that no one came across them seeing he, the great man, hiding from flames while a child and its blind mother played with the fire.

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For the first night since they began the journey, Sher had fallen asleep without being held in his mother's arms. He laid by the glowering embers, the blanket wrapped around him and made into a pillow. Roanya couldn't blame the boy for falling asleep so easily after eating so much of the rabbit. They had been surviving on such little amounts of food for the past week that he had eaten enough to fill his belly for days. Sandor had laid out the bedroll for himself and thrown the blanket at Sher to share with his mother. When he came back from relieving his bladder he had found the boy snuggled down in the blanket and his mother huddled on the cold ground near the dying fire. Sandor had ignored it for a good while, but when he heard her dress rustle as she tried to get comfortable, yet again, he knew he would get no sleep unless she stopped. His senses were still on high alert from the morning's run-in with the group of Stark men. He hadn't realized how far from King's Landing he had come. _Glad to be this far away. Less chance of someone knowing just who I am._ He had kept his dog's head helm packed in a bag attached to his saddle, lest he be discovered and overpowered. Not that it would happen, but Sandor knew he could not defend himself against an entire army should he find himself in the camp of Robb Stark. The sound of Roanya shifting, again, brought him out of his thoughts. His deep voice cut across the camp, loud enough for her to hear but not loud enough to wake Sher.

"Girl, come here." Roanya rolled to her hands and knees and crawled a few feet away from the fire before she stood. Sandor had never seen a more erotic vision than Roanya's body slinking towards him with the glow of the fire behind her. Her blond hair was loose and fell over her shoulders while her movements were as graceful as a cat's would be. Her steps were slow in a careful way, but to Sandor it seemed sensual. Each measured step she took towards him made his arousal grow. _It has been too long since I've had a woman._ Her dress had shifted a bit because of her restless turning and Sandor could just make out the tops of her breasts when she knelt on his right side, facing him. Her right hand brushed the outside of his thigh as she shifted her body, and Sandor didn't know if she had meant to do it or not. He also didn't know if she intended her voice to come out as husky as it did.

"You called for me, Ser?"

"My name is Sandor." Roanya heard the tell-tale sign of arousal coating his voice. She had been around enough men to understand them and what they wanted, even if they didn't even know themselves. She knew the art of seducing a man, and if he already held just a small amount of attraction to her then her efforts to ensure the safety for herself and her son would work. She lifted her left hand from the ground to fully rest on his thigh as she leaned close to him with her chest. He realized that he could move his right hand inches and be touching her as well, he felt the fabric of her skirt at his fingertips. Her lips were parted slightly and when she pulled the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth Sandor fully realized that he wanted nothing more than a good fucking from the girl before him. He didn't think of Sansa or any other whore he had ever had. He only thought of Roanya and the way she had smiled at him and kissed him and stood up against him. She seemed to sense his lust, unable to see it playing clearly in his eyes, and spoke once more.

"Thank you, _Sandor_, for all that you have done for us." Sandor did not like when he was not in control of a situation. With any enemy he had faced since his brother caused his flesh to burn, he had always been the more powerful man or the more skilled warrior. But Roanya was clearly the one in charge at that moment. Whores were always too frightened by him to truly take their time with him, not that he minded. He would go in, fuck hard, relieve his need and then walk away. He wanted nothing more than to do just that. But he had a feeling that once he had Roanya and got a taste of the feelings she would pull from him, he wouldn't walk away.

Roanya supported her body with her right hand as her left began a journey up Sandor's thigh. He felt as if her touch left a path of fire in its wake as it traveled up his stomach and across his chest, coming to rest against the left side of his face. Sandor had never wanted to feel fire on his skin again, but he couldn't help but want to feel more of the flames Roanya's skilled hands left on his body.

She angled his head so that she could press her lips to his with an aggressive kiss. She knew that this man would enjoy gentle touches but would crave for more as well. The woman who had taught her the ways of men had explained to her that often the largest, most dominating men needed an equally dominating woman in their bed to stay satified. Sandor pushed against her, matching her aggressive pace, and his left hand flew to tangle in her golden hair while his right went to her hip. She let out a moan and was surprised to find that it was not forced. The men she was used to pleasing would only lay back and demand she perform the task she was paid for. A few had participated, but none had responded as quickly as Sandor. _Or as eagerly._ The thought came to her as his hand moved from her hip to around her back, pulling her closer so that their chests nearly touched.

As they pulled apart for air, Roanya shifted to that she straddled his lap, his legs slightly bending at the knees and pushing her most sensitive of areas over his hardened arousal. She rocked her hips and let out a sincere gasp of surprise at the pleasant feeling. Even with the countless men she had bedded, not once had she been able to bring herself to pleasure. She always felt that there was a level of intimacy lost when the man you were fucking had bought you for the night. But Sandor had not paid for her, or demanded she please him. He had saved her, multiple times, and shown her kindness, no matter how small, that no man had shown her for years. She couldn't be sure if it was the size of him, the position, the intimate setting or her thoughts of gratefulness but Roanya found herself actually _wanting_ to be with the man underneath her. She had learned to shut her thoughts off and just let her body do what it knew how to do. Before she let all thoughts leave her mind and allowed her body to take over she wanted to be farther away from her son.

"Not here. Take me deeper into the woods before I take you deep inside me." When she whispered it against his lips Sandor was too far gone down the path of lust too argue or stop himself. Not that he wanted to stop. He briefly thought of Sansa and how the young girl would be too virginal to know how to please a man the way that he knew Roanya would be pleasing him soon. When he did not move right away, she pushed her hips against his harder than before. All thoughts of Sansa left him and his mind became consumed by the woman who had treated him like no other had. She had not shied away in fear or disgust, nor had she called him a monster for the things he had done. She had only offered him her thanks, her smiles and now her body. He lifted her off of him, but only so that he could stand. He took hold of her hand and quickly led her deeper into the darkness. Roanya could tell they were getting farther from camp by the sounds of the fire fading. She felt the grip on her hand tighten and for a moment became afraid that she had done something she would regret. She became afraid that the man would be too rough with her, would hurt her and would enjoy it. She knew what some twisted men could do, heard tales from the other whores. He must have felt the slight resistance, for he stopped and turned to her. His voice was deep, laced with arousal, as he spoke.

"Girl, you this is your only chance to turn back. I will not force a woman, but I won't stop myself once you agree."

"Tell me you won't hurt me." He let go of her hand only to grip her shoulders with both hands. He pushed her backwards until her back hit a tree. _So that's what she fears. _He knew in that moment that he was back in control, but he wanted to calm her fears so that she would finish what she had started. He ran his hand down her sides and she squirmed a bit at being on the receiving end of an intimate touch. Most men were all grabby hands and jerky movements. But years of training with a sword had given Sandor the ability to control the movements his hands made. When his hands made it to her hips, he lifted her and she pulled her skirts up to wrap her legs around his waist. He brought his head close to her ear and when he spoke she felt her need deepen.

"I am no gentle man, but I don't enjoy bringing pain to woman."

When he felt her fingers began a dance that they had memorized and nearly tore off his shirt, he knew that she had given her consent. She reached in between their bodies and untied his pants, awkwardly forcing them down enough to reveal what made him a man. She felt his right hand leave her hip and she brought her hands to his shoulders to help support her body. His hand pushed her skirts even further out of the way and Roanya felt his calloused fingers brush against her core. She knew that this would not be about power or love or anything but a man and a woman coming together to find a release.

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So…do you want the continuation to be next chapter? Or should I just go to the morning after? Was it good? I'm a bit worried about my "naughty" writing skills. I don't want to make this pornographic, but the lust-y relationship is what makes this story all come together. Well, I hope everyone is enjoying this tale. I am really enjoying writing it.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

I apologize for the wait on this chapter. But I hope I can make it up to you with the contents of this update! You wanted a bit of smut…well you got a bit of smut!

Enjoy!

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Roanya gripped the shirt covering his shoulders tightly in her hands. Sandor had given a few shallow thrusts to let her adjust to his size before he had fully joined them. He stilled for a moment, letting out an almost inaudible moan. But Roanya had developed such a keen sense of hearing from having no sight that she was able to hear. It was so full of need and want and lust that she wanted to hear it again, only louder. The men that had always taken her had only wanted her to touch them for pleasure, but Sandor seemed to want her to touch him for more than that. The way his hands clung to her in such need was something new to Roanya. Sandor didn't want her because she was a whore. He wanted her because she was a woman. _With him, I don't have to be a whore. I can just be Roanya._

Sandor pulled out of her only to thrust back in, pushing her back into the tree from the force. He had not been lying when he had said he was not a gentle man. She angled her hips to take in more of him, she wanted to take in more of him. She had been taught to just shut her mind off during her nights with men. It wasn't really _her_ that would be doing all of the perverted acts the men had bought her for, it was just some whore. But tonight she would not shut out her thoughts. She would remember every groan and touch and feeling that Sandor would offer her.

She moved her hands to his neck, pulling his face to hers. She found his lips and her kiss was almost too gentle, too intimate, that Sandor nearly pulled away and ran. But her kiss made him want to stay too. Her lips moved against his and he could not remember a time when a woman had touched his lips and not pulled away in fear at the feeling of the mutilated flesh of the right side of his mouth. His hips slowed to match the lazy pace of her lips with Sandor even realizing what his body was doing. His thrusts were slow and _deep_, driving Roanya close to the edge with need. Men didn't want slow, they wanted fast, hard, painful. She let out a moan against his lips, a real moan, and tightened her legs around his hips in a silent request to go harder.

Her action seemed to snap him out of the trance she had put him under. His lazy strokes turned to powerful thrusts and Roanya threw her head back against the tree, arching her back to keep it from being scratched even more. Sandor felt his release nearing and he was nearly ready to say or do anything just so the feeling would overtake him. He was able to rasp out words without slowing his thrusts.

"Look at me." She opened her eyes but all she could see was shadows. He removed his right hand from where it had been holding her hips to his and took hold of her left hand. "With this. See me with _this_." Her foggy thoughts registered what he was asking her to do, but she did not realize the significance of what his words meant. He brought his hand back to her hip and she let out a moan before gently laying her hand near the top of his head. She felt his hair beneath her fingertips and followed the strands to where they rested against his face. His thrusts did now slow but she could hear his breathing became baited, as if waiting for her to touch his face. She brushed the strands aside but her slow pace and reluctance to just hold his face was antagonizing Sandor. "Do it, girl." _Before I change my mind._ He had nearly said it out loud but kept his thoughts within his mind. He was slow close that when her fingertips first touched the scared, sensitive flesh of his face he couldn't help but lose control. He let out a groan as he thrust his seed into Roanya's welcoming body, feeling drained and relieved. She had given off her own sound of pleasure but Sandor doubted if he had actually brought her to completion. Not that he would know how to play the stings of pleasure on a woman's body. Woman weren't usually welcoming to the idea of him touching their bodies, preferring a man with fair looks and a kind demeanor. But that would never be Sandor.

He felt her palm against his face and tensed. Now that his need had left him, he was in more control of his thoughts and actions and pulled his face away from the girl. She let out a huff and brought both of her hands to cup his face and before he could pull away again she spoke to him. She could feel the differences between the two sides of his face and wanted to explore the damaged side more. But instead she kept her hands still, knowing that he could change in an instant and strike her for touching him in a place where he had probably let no other person touch.

She smiled at him and brought his head closer, placing a kiss on his lips that Sandor was slowly coming to enjoy. It did not last long, Sandor's lips tense against hers, and she removed her hands from his face as her lips pulled away. Roanya unwrapped her legs from around his hips and Sando pulled himself from her, stepping away to give her room to stand. Her legs were shaky and so he kept his hands on her hips to steady her. An awkward moment settled on them as they stood in silence, each trying to sort through the thoughts and feelings brought on by what they had just done. One thing that neither of them felt in that moment was regret.

Sandor did not regret letting her touch his face, yearning for the acceptance that he hoped she would give even after she discovered what he was, a disfigured monster. Roanya did not regret giving herself to him, making her feel like she wasn't what she really was, a used whore. Sandor lifted her into his arms and carried her back to the bedroll they had abandoned in favor of using a tree. They did not speak and when Sandor heard her light snore he was relieved that she was sleeping. He pulled her against his once he was seated and waited for sleep to claim him as well. But for reasons he did not know, or would not yet acknowledge, his mind would not allow him to sleep on this night.

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Sandor thought that he would have been able to sleep after the satisfaction that Roanya provided. But each time he closed his eyes all he could see was flashing of her face as she writhed in pleasure and all he could hear were her gasps and moans and he became hard with need once again. Sandor was no fool and he knew that whores were practiced in the art of faking pleasure so that the man felt good about himself, but he would not, could not, believe that Roanya had been faking. He had expected her womanhood to be stretched, from the countless men that had used her and the son that she had given birth to, but he found that he enjoyed it no matter if she was the tightest woman he had been inside or not. Her hands had been so soft on his skin in comparison to the aggressive thrusts of his hips. The mix of gentle and rough had been a new sensation for him that he had yet to experience from another woman. And he wanted to experience it again. When the boy had awoken, he had sat up and his eyes searched for his mother. When Sher saw her in the arms of Sandor he stood and pulled the blanket over to the pair. He threw it over them and only then did he notice Sandor watching him. Sher brought a finger to his lips and signaled for Sandor to be quiet, as if he wanted his mother to be allowed to sleep. The boy ran off and Sandor started to untangle himself from Roanya. He just couldn't bring himself to push her off of him so instead he shifted until he was able to free himself. He gave her once last glance before going into the woods to relieve his bladder. When he returned to camp he sat by the place where the fire had been the night before. He stared into the charred wood and thought of the boy's words the day before. _I let her touch my face. She has fucking seen me now. She'll fear me and be disgusted just like the rest of them. _Sher came to sit by him and mirrored Sandor's position. The two sat in silence neither having the will to wake the sleeping woman.

When Roanya awoke the next morning she did not feel the heat from Sandor behind her. She barely remembered anything after he had pushed her up against the tree and joined their bodies in the most intimate of ways, just the sound of a fading moan in her ears and the feeling of his skin against her fingertips. She shifted and she cringed a bit, her sore body had yet to heal from the beating by Matthar's hands before she gave herself to Sandor. She had not wanted to lose herself like she had. She wanted to take things slowly and tease him until he would do anything just to feel a release. Then she had planned to make him vow to protect her and Sher before she brought him to his peak. But somewhere things had gone wrong. She had lost control over the situation and allowed him to set the pace. And he had even told her to touch him. She didn't want to think on what that meant for the day that lay ahead of her. It was a dangerous thing that she had done, one of the first things she had been taught was to always be the one directing things to protect yourself.

But it had been different with Sandor. She didn't feel like a whore when he had touched her but felt like she was _desirable_. She knew that men wanted her, but that was only because they had to pay to get her. They liked to own her, even if it was just for the night, to show that they were more powerful than her. But Sandor didn't need to prove that he was stronger than her, she didn't need to see to know that he was powerful. And he even gave her a chance to say 'no', to tell him to stop. It was something new for Roanya to be given a choice on what to do with her body. She shifted off of her back to relieve the slight sting from where the tree she was held against had left its mark. Her movement must have caught Sandor's attention, because when she had rolled over he spoke. From the sound of his voice, he was sitting in front of her just out of arms reach. He had lost the almost sensual tone that he used the night before and it was replaced with his usual gruff timbre.

"Boy, wake your mother. We are leaving." Roanya couldn't help but think that Sandor had waited until she was already awake to give the command to her son. Sher walked over to his mother's form and she heard him shuffle his footsteps as he came closer. He knelt down next to her and gently shook her, already knowing that she was awake but not wanting to disappoint the man who had given him such an important task.

"Mum, Sandor says to get up now." Roanya pushed herself into a seated position and stretched her arms above her head. She winced at the soreness once again, but this time Sher noticed. He was very observant for just a boy, but acting as someone else's eyes had made him that way. "He must have been rough with you." Ronaya startled at the boy's words, panicking that he had heard their tryst in the woods the night before. She may be a whore but she would not poison her son's with the sights and sounds of what she did. Her boy was too young to understand.

"What?" Sher put his hand on her arm, touching the bruise that was still healing. He touched it just a bit too hard, as children do, and Roanya pulled away.

"Matthar. He was a lot rougher with you this time. What did you do to make him mad?" Roanya relaxed slightly, relieved that her baby hadn't heard them the night before. She was about to respond when Sandor cut her off.

"Boy." Sher glanced at the man and shut his mouth, never having a man around to reprimand his questions before. Never really having anyone around except his mother. But it seemed that now they would be traveling with the confusing man for a time. The young boy was not afraid of Sandor, only curious, in the way that children were. Once Roanya had fully gotten herself up the three of them tore down the camp and loaded their supplies onto Stranger. Sandor didn't know why his usually temperamental beast was being so docile around their new traveling companions. He also didn't know why he was acting the same way as his horse, docile and nearly _gentle_ around the pair. He lifted Roanya onto Stranger's back and her hands lingered on his arms. His own did not leave her waist, the images of the night before coming back to him. When he looked at her, Sandor thought she was about to lean forward to kiss him, or maybe he just thought she would because he wanted it. Her kisses had been so tender and Sandor could almost pretend he was someone else when he closed his eyes and she was in his arms. He didn't have to be 'The Hound'. He could just be Sandor.

He pulled his arms from her when he felt the boy tap his leg. He lifted the boy into Roanya's arms and the travelers were on their way. Sandor still didn't know where he was headed, but he knew that wherever he went Roanya and Sher would be coming with him.

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Thank you for the reviews. Want to give me your opinion on this chapter? Let me know if it's going in a direction you like? Direction you hate? Want it to end? Well, I'll keep writing it until it is done even if you tell me to stop. I'm selfish like that. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Sorry for the wait, lovely readers and reviewers. I stayed up way too late finishing this, but my sleep-addled brain was finally able to figure out where I want to take this story. Updates will be coming, maybe once a week…hopefully. I will try to squeeze in some writing here and there!

Enjoy!

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Sandor hated it. He _fucking_ hated it. Roanya had not been treating him differently since he had taken her in the most intimate of ways and she had felt his scars, just a few days ago. He wanted her to fear him or hate him or be disgusted by him or _something_. But instead, she had been acting like nothing had happened. He had been relying on his scars to keep people from breaking through the barriers he had placed around himself for so long, that he forgot what it felt like to be treated no differently than any other man. Roanya was even closer to breaking through to him than Sansa had been. Sandor had wanted his Little Bird to see him for a man, but instead it took a blind whore to be the one to truly see him. _The Gods are just so fucking ironic._

They had continued on their journey over the past days the same as before, with the exception that Sandor allowed a small fire to keep Sher and Roanya warm. He was relieved to have her away from him at night, but he also missed her body against his. He would be a fool to admit that he wasn't attracted to her body, even more so now that he had been inside her. It only made his lust for her worse when he replayed that night in his dreams and he awoke so aroused it was almost painful. He had just thought his attraction to her had been because he hadn't had a woman in a while and he now had a willing one at his disposal. But he often caught himself staring at her when they were settled for the night. She would hold her son and sing softly to him, only sleeping once she was sure her boy was in a deep slumber. And then Sandor would be alone with his thoughts.

Sandor had felt childish being jealous of the way she tenderly held her son, but wanted to feel her soft touches on his own skin. He knew that she would repeat their actions from the other night if only he called to her. And he wanted to beckon her to him. But he didn't want to. He wanted her to want to come to him. He didn't understand how to figure out all of the conflicted things he was feeling. So he did what any man does when faced with something he doesn't understand when women were involved. He ignored what he was feeling and instead treated Roanya as if she were nothing. And she _still_ would not treat him like a monster.

"Girl." Roanya had just come back with Sher from bathing in the river. Her blond hair was slicked to her face and neck and her dress clung to her skin just as seductively. The shadows of the setting sun played off the angles of her body, making the image of her that much more arousing to Sandor. Her face had yet to completely heal but there was a slight improvement, not that Sandor had any right to judge the condition of another person's face.

"Man?" She turned towards him and her tone was almost…playful? Sandor didn't know for sure, since no women had wanted to 'play' with him. It was yet another reason he hated Roanya. Or enjoyed her. _Maybe both? If I don't get her out of my mind it will get us all killed. How can I fucking concentrate when she stands there like that?_ They had passed a traveling minstrel who offered to sing them a song, to which Sandor nearly sliced the man in two for suggesting, who had said they were close to a town. If they left now they could be there in a few hours, and then Sandor could leave the girl and her son with some kind person who would take them in. He could be free of her body and his thoughts and he could get back to being the killer that he was. There were a lot of things that Sandor _could_ do, but he did not know if he _would._ Sandor still hadn't decided if they were going to stop at the town, and was stalling from making a final decision by making camp early.

Roanya had been more than happy to camp near a river, excited of the prospect of a good bath. A good _cold_ bath. She hated how Sandor's touch had lingered after they have been together in the woods. He hadn't been amazing or special or even brought her to pleasure, so Roanya didn't understand why she couldn't forget the feel of him. She knew that she wanted to touch his face more, make her hands discover a better picture than they had in the brief seconds that she had felt his distorted flesh. Roanya hoped that he would want to feel her again, if only so that she could satisfy her curiosity on what made him so protective of his appearance. She also had a want to feel his hands on her body again, and had no doubt that it would happen. _Next time I'll be in control. It was so rushed before, so different, so passionate. _Sandor spoke once again, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Start the fire." He caught Sher's young face looking at him, as was the boy's usual. "Boy, help your mother." Sandor walked deeper into the forest and away from the clearing in search for something to kill for dinner. At his words Roanya stilled her movements, a strange feeling overtook her stomach after he had spoken. She had heard those same exact words spoken by many fathers to their sons in the village. She heard her son's simple answer of 'yes, Sandor' but in her mind she heard 'yes, father'. She felt her heart break knowing that her son would never be taught the things a father would teach. Her little boy would never have a trade or even a family name to carry on, just a whore for a mother. _Nothing but a tool for men's pleasure._ She hid the tears she wanted to cry, being brave for her son, and felt him lead her to where the fire would be made. Sher brought her what she needed and slowly Roanya begin to build the flames up. She heard the pop and sizzle of the wood and felt the heat on her body as she became lost in her thoughts once again. By the time that Sandor returned her hair had dried and the sun had set.

The three of them sat around the fire, Sandor sitting father back, as the meat cooked. He watched Roanya's hands moving slowly through the air, feeling the degree of heat at certain places until she was able to find the makeshift spit. It pissed him off even more that she was willing to face an open flame, while he had ran, deserted, when Blackwater had become overrun with fire. He stared hard into the fire before him and could picture the battle once more. He had heard no word of what had happened but assumed that his name had been sullied. There would be no going back to his old life. Instead he would have to make a new life, possibly traveling to the free cities or even the Wall. _No women on the Wall. No fucking Lannisters either._ He pulled his eyes away from the flame and regarded his two blonde companions. The thought crossed his mind that they very well could have Lannister blood running through their veins. His gruff voice broke through the clearing, starling the boy that had started to doze into a light sleep.

"What is your family name?" Roanya had her cloudy eyes focused on the space before her as she answered him.

"Don't have one."

"A Rivers, then?" She shrugged her shoulders, knowing the meaning behind the motion. She never had a need for a name beyond her first and hadn't wasted any thought on it. The Maester had only every called her 'Roanya' and hadn't labeled her a bastard. And she hadn't passed a bastard name onto her son, she didn't even know who his father _was,_ let alone where the man had come from. The pair had enough ridicule to deal with without carrying the bastard label as well.

"How'd you get burned?" Sandor knew the boy wanted to ask him the question, and was not surprised when his tiny voice finally formed the words. He saw the curiosity matched on both faces of mother and son, but he would not tell them. Sandor's silence did not halt the boy from speaking. "Mum got burned once. Did you see it yet? It feels different from the rest of her arm. And it looks like a lion." He jumped up and went to his mother, trying to pull her arm so that Sandor could see the shape that her scars had taken. She resisted, knowing that her son's innocence could cause trouble for them if Sandor wasn't in a patient mood.

"Sher, sit down. He doesn't want to see and he doesn't want to touch it. It's-" Sandor's voice stopped whatever protest the boy was about to speak.

"You speak for me now, girl?" Sandor motioned with his hand for Sher to bring Roanya to him. "Come here." Roanya stood and let Sher pull her towards where Sandor sat. Sher guided her to stand in front of Sandor before he pulled up his mother's sleeve and exposed the scared flesh that lay beneath. He held her arm out towards Sandor so he could get a better look. Roanya held her breath, not knowing what would happened next. _Gods, is all so confusing. _

"No, you can't just look with your eyes! You have to see with your hands, like Mum taught me." Roanya stood frozen as she felt Sandor's calloused fingers tracing the outline of the scar on her forearm. She was nearly glad that she was blind, afraid of what she might see on the man's face. She would have seen Sandor watching the path that his fingers took, marveling at the way her skin seemed to tremble under his touch. Roanya had never been on the receiving end of such a sensual act, always having to be the one to touch men that way that Sandor was touching her now. Sher sat next to Sandor, but the movement went unnoticed by the adults, each of them lost in their own thoughts.

Roanya was glad the sun had set and the breeze had a slight chill, or she would have been burning from the heat of his fingers. She wanted to feel his soft touch all over her body and it scared her that she wanted it. Roanya felt his fingers slowly trail down her arms, passed her fingers, until he finally took his touch away. She let out the breath of air she had been holding and brought her arm to her chest, slowly rubbing away the feeling that Sandor had caused. She felt her own fingers tracing the path that his had made, and Sandor noticed it. He had fought his urge to pull her to him and bury himself deep inside her when he heard her take a shaky breath. Sandor had heard the Queen with her brother many times, and he had heard her make such noises when the two were behind closed doors. _Did she actually want me to touch her?_ It was a powerful feeling to think that he could cause a woman to feel something other than fear or hate or disgust. Sandor had only used his hands to bring death and pain, and doubted he could ever be a gentle lover. He heard her call the boy to her side, and the pair went back to tend to their dinner that sat over the flames. He could feel himself become aroused watching her body as she walked away from him. It almost seemed as if she was _trying _to seduce him. And in truth she was. His caress had been simple, nothing more than a brush of skin on skin, but it had awoken a desire within Roanya. Men had touched her like the whore she was, not gently stroked her with their fingertips and given her a lover's caress. _It this how he felt after I touched his face, however brief it was?_ Their meal was eaten in near silence, the only sounds they heard coming from the forest surrounding them. Sher had fallen asleep quickly after his belly was full and moments after she heard his breathing become deep, Ronaya made her move. She stood and as quietly walked away from the sounds of the fire. With her hands at her side she was able to feel the thickness of the brush increase and she knew she was walking the correct way. She stopped once the popping of the flames was only faint, and listened for the sounds that Sandor had followed her.

He had watched her walk away without saying a word, and followed her at the memory of what had happened the last time they were alone in a forest. He made enough noise so that she knew he was following her, and with each step he took his arousal grew. By the time he had reached her he was almost to the point of touching himself to relieve what watching her body had caused. When she turned to him and gave him a seductive smile, he could hold himself back no more. He closed the small distance between them and brought his lips to hers. He was rough, nearly painful, until Roanya pulled away slightly and spoke against his lips.

"Give me control, just this once let yourself be overpowered." She trailed her hands up his arms and felt him tremble beneath her finger just as his touch had made her tremble earlier in the night. Her hands came up and rested against the exposed skin of his neck. His hands had moved to her hips and his grip was just as rough as his kiss had been. _He's never been shown how to be gentle._ The kiss she gave him was so light he didn't even know if their lips had touched. Sandor felt her hands leave his neck to adjust the grip he had on her hips. She pulled his fingers off of her and for a moment he thought she was rejecting him. But instead she brought his hands to her breasts, guiding his hands with hers still atop. She manipulated his hands into kneading her chest in a series of gentle movements that caused her to let out a sigh of pleasure. She could still sense that he was holding back from giving her complete control, even if he allowed her to guide his hands. Roanya placed a kiss to the burned corner of his mouth before she spoke again. "Please, Sandor." He was not able to give her his reply before the screams of her son pierced the otherwise silent night and caused their blood to run cold.

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I would love an encouraging review! Hmmm…I wonder why the poor boy is screaming….


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

Oho, another chapter! It's only been a few days I made you wait instead of the much longer wait I had anticipated. But such nice reviews prompted me to write this faster. (not-so-subtle-hint that reviews make the chapters come faster!) Thank you for reading, reviewing, alerting and favorite-ing! Bit of some naughtiness near the end of this chapter.

And…To the anonymous reviewer who misses Jaime and Melara: Trust me, my friend, I do as well! But perhaps theirs is a tale that has yet to be finished…*hint hint*…*coughI'mwritingthesequelnowcough*.

Enjoy!

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Sandor threw Roanya over his shoulder and stomped his way quickly back through the forest all on instinct. When he heard the boy's scream it had sounded so like Sansa's that he jumped to action without needing to think. When he broke into the camp he saw why the boy had screamed, and was continuing to do so. The blanket that Sher had gathered around himself had caught fire, quickly by the looks of it, and his pants had also become engulfed in the flames. The three year old had awoken to his skin becoming hot and felt the fire against his skin, causing him to panic. Sandor dropped Roanya to the ground and sprung on the boy, rolling him in the dirt to put out the fire. The boy continued his screams as he fought against Sandor, trying to stop the pain in his leg and his mind not understanding what was happening. The Hound began to yell out commands to Roanya.

"Put that FUCKING fire out! Get water!" Ronaya had scrambled to her feet and ran frantically towards her son's screams. She could only see darkness but from the sounds of pain he was in and the fact that Sandor was screaming about fire and water, Roanya could guess what had happened.

"I can't get it! Not fast enough!" Sandor pushed himself to stand picking up the now wailing boy with him. He had ripped the boy's pants off and given up trying to quell the flames in favor of removing them. He saw the ugly burn on Sher's leg but wasted no thought on anything but putting out the fucking fire. He put the boy into Roanya's waiting arms and she instantly fell to her knees and rocked her son. Sandor briefly wondered if his mother would have done the same had she been alive when Gregor had pushed his face into the fire those many years ago. He tried not to think about fire or flames as he made the short run to the river with a pot, before bringing it back and dousing the flames. He made a second trip and it was enough to put out the remainder of the fire. He paused for a moment to survey what had been damaged but Sher's wail of pain made his return to the river for a third pot of water. Sandor knelt next to the shaking boy and frantic mother and took a firm grasp of his right ankle.

"Hold him tight." He spoke loud enough for her to hear and saw Roanya's arms tighten. The wound was nothing bad in comparison to what could have happened, but the flesh still was raw and would need to be bandaged to prevent infection. He dumped the cool water over Sher's leg to cleanse any dirt that had gotten into the wound when Sandor was rolling him in the dirt. Sher was in a state of shock and had stopped fighting, the pain overtaking his small body, but it was now Roanya who wept. Sandor removed his hand and Roanya instantly pulled her son into her chest, once again cursing the Gods for her blindness. Sandor stood and made his way to where Stranger was grazing. _Fucking horse. Won't even run when he knows he should._ Roanya's small voice floated to his ears, as if on a breeze.

"Is it bad…the burn?" Sandor opened one of his saddle bags and pulled out a spare shirt he had packed. The sounds of ripping fabric broke through the camp and Roanya could only guess that he intended to wrap her son's wound. She heard his heavy footfalls return to her side before he answered her, the sound splashing water hitting her ears.

"He'll live. Needs to be treated, though. With supplies we don't have." Sandor was no maester but the makeshift bandage would keep the burn clean and ebb the pain until they could make it to the village. He knew the wound would fester if left untreated, and the thought of a soft bed was enticing enough to make his mind up about traveling to the village the bard has told them of. He finished wrapping Sher's leg but before he could pull away, Roanya reached for his hand, feeling that he had dipped the fabric into water before putting it around her son's leg. Her grip was firm, surprising Sandor with the strength she held despite seeming weak.

"Please, Sandor. Take us to the village tonight. I'll do anything. I'll fuck you or you can hit me or both I don't care. Just…please, help us." Sandor let out a slow breath of air through his nose and took in the sight before him. His heart gave an odd twinge when his eyes settled on the boy, and Sandor assumed it was pity he felt. He'd only felt it once before, when Sansa had been made to look upon her dead father's head as it sat atop a spike.

"Fine. Get up." Sandor took hold of the pot and raised himself to his feet, regarding the damage the fire had caused. It was only the blanket and the boy's pants that had been set ablaze, and Sandor left them on the ground where they had been thrown, seeing no use for the burned fabric. He wrapped up his bedroll and tied it and the pot to his saddle. He mounted Stranger and guided his steed over to where Roanya stood waiting for him, blind as a newborn kitten and looking as helpless as one too. He stopped before her and extended his arm down as he spoke. "Give me the boy."

Roanya placed a kiss to her son's forehead before heaving him up to Sandor. She waited a moment and listened to the sounds of shifting fabric signifying that Sher was being adjusted in Sandor's arms. It frightened her that her son was so quiet, and she hoped that he had fallen asleep but knew the pain had only caused his mind to become dull. She raised her arm in the air and was not disappointed when Sandor's hand connected with her forearm, just to the inside of her elbow. He pulled her up and she settled onto the horse behind him, confused when he did not pass her son back to her. _He can't care for Sher, why is he acting as if Sher is his own injured son?_

She did not question him, but instead wrapped her arms around him, resting them between his chest and her son. As Stranger began to trot she turned her head and rested her cheek against his back, feeling his tense muscles below. She could hear the steady beating of his heart but it only calmed her slightly. Sandor felt the wetness of her tears soaking through his shirt and felt her hands become fists, the material of his shirt bunched within. He briefly looked down and saw that the boy was looking at him with blank eyes, void of anything. Sandor had seen many men wear the same look in their eyes after being wounded on the field of battle. He heard a maester claim that it was the mind blocking out the feeling of pain. Sandor had scoffed at the man, never remembering a time when he felt so much pain that he couldn't handle it. But staring at the boy he wondered if he had done the same thing after his own incident with fire. He had no memory of the pain he felt that day, only what, _who_ had caused it.

Roanya shifted behind him and he felt her chest pushing against his back. _She had said anything to help her. _Sandor thought of what they had been about to do in the woods before they were interrupted and knew exactly what that _anything _would be.

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Sandor could still hear the music and sounds of drunken men coming from the inn when they rode into the village. He offered Roanya his arm and she slid down from Stranger's back before accepting Sher into her arms. The boy had not spoken but only made whimpering sounds of pain that made Roanya curse the Gods even more. She shifted Sher so that she could support him with one arm and took hold of Sandor's hand once he had dismounted and strapped his sword to his back. She laced their fingers together and was glad that he did not pull away. There would be too much noise once they were inside for her to hear his distinct footfalls. With his free hand Sandor led Stranger to a free stall and locked the door behind the beast once he was inside. He left Roanya's side for only a moment to remove the saddle and bridle before reclaiming her hand. His touch caused something within Roanya to still. She knew that whatever she felt stemmed from the gratitude that he had been so willing to help them but it still made her heart beat a bit faster.

They entered the inn and Sandor tried to keep his face hidden, lest someone recognize him as the Hound. Many men would turn in the deserter to either side of the war because of who he was. He felt no pride in the fact that so many wanted him dead. He paid the innkeeper for the night and as they were led to their room Sandor requested the man find him the supplies they needed to treat Sher's burn. The innkeeper lit the few torches in the room and left to find his new patron what he required. Once inside the room, Roanya released Sandor's hand but did not move away from him as she spoke to her son.

"Sher? Are you awake, sweetling?" He did not answer her, and instead it was Sandor who spoke.

"He's awake, just in shock. Give him Milk of the Poppy tonight. Boy will need it to sleep." Sandor took in the room they would be staying in for the night. It wasn't small but the furniture was scarce, only a large bed and a few plain, but sturdy, armless chairs near the fire. Sandor cursed himself for not bringing more with him besides his gold and his sword, wishing for his bedroll to lie on the floor so he wouldn't have to share a bed with mother and child. He didn't want to be distracted in the night from any threats that may walk through the door, and with Roanya by his side he would certainly be distracted.

When the innkeeper, an old man with a thick head of white hair who was at least three heads shorter than Sandor, returned with supplies he inquired if they needed anything else of him. With a shake of Sandor's head, the man had left them alone once again, placing their required supplies upon the bed. The Hound placed his hand between Roanya's shoulders and guided her to the bed.

"Put him down, girl." She quietly did as she was told, her tears silent as they spilled from her cloudy blue eyes. Roanya stayed next to her son as Sandor took the fabric slowly off the boy's leg, being gentler than he had ever been before, and saw the extent of the burn. If he would have been a full grown man it would have been nothing but an annoyance, but the child's thin skin had melted away, the spot nearly the size of Sandor's hand. He could see the blistering better now as he cleansed the wound once more. He quickly applied the salve he had been provided and wrapped the wound once more. He propped the boy up against Roanya and slid a few drops of Milk of the Poppy down Sher's throat, although the boy had yet to protest to anything.

"He would be dead if not for you." Her voice, so laced with despair, had been little more than a whisper as she continued. "You've saved his life three times since coming into it." She moved her hand along the bed until her hands painted a picture of where she should place her son so that he would be comfortable. Sandor once again wondered if his own mother would have been as worried for him as Roanya now was for Sher. He stood from where he had been kneeling next to the bed and made his way to a chair that was across the room, tucking into a corner by the fireplace that had not been lit. _No more fucking fires. _Sandor slumped in his chair and almost felt guilty for what had happened to the boy, knowing that if he hadn't been so focused on Roanya's tempting body that the boy would not have been burned. He would have stopped it. And if he would have been stronger when he was younger, he would have stopped Gregor. He would have stopped that, too.

Even while facing away from the bed and nearly thirty or forty paces away, Sandor could still hear Roanya singing to her son. He could hear the shakiness to her voice as she held her tears back, if only so that she could finish her song, and he nearly stormed from the room. He couldn't stand the way the woman and the boy were making him _feel, _the way he had the urge to go to them as he wanted to do with his Little Bird so many times. _Must be getting soft in my old age._ Sandor stood, needing a drink and possibly a good fight, and left without a word of where he was going. Roanya heard the door open and close but did not stop her lullaby until exhaustion over took her. Before she slipped into the land of dreams she heard the soft snores coming from Sher that signified the Milk of the Poppy had finally given the boy reprieve enough to sleep. _I owe Sandor so much. _The man who was becoming her savior plagued her thoughts as Roanya snuggled closer to her son and finally allowed sleep to claim her.

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Sandor made his way back to the room only once he had his fill of wine. Pushing through the door, he did not try to quiet his steps as he trudged to one of the open chairs, a flagon of wine still in his hand. Sandor would give anything to be thrown into a fight at that moment. He could deal with death and pain better than he could deal with the pair that lay soundly asleep in the bed behind him. He sat heavily down and let out a snort. _I can face certain death but a woman and her babe frighten me. Who am I? Fucking King Robert?_ Sandor heard the shifting behind him and hoped neither of his companions had awoken. _Just what I fucking need._ Roanya's voice was husky from sleep as she spoke, but Sandor's body reacted to it as if she were standing before him naked.

"Sandor?"

"Girl." He took a deep drink of wine before wiping the remnants away with the back of his hand and discarding the flagon on the ground somewhere to his right. He looked to where it had fallen and could barely make out Roanya's form in the dim light as she slowly walked towards him. She slowly moved her arms around her so that she would not hit anything and to Sandor it looked as if she were doing some sort of dance. She was close enough for him to touch before she spoke again.

"What did those supplies cost you?" He had been too mesmerized by her body that it took Sandor a moment to realize what she had been speaking of. She continued when he had yet to answer. "You can sell me for the night to one of the other men that are staying here. I hope that it would be enough to cover any gold you've spent but-."

"No!" Sandor had not meant to use such a forceful tone, but the wine was slowly overtaking his mind and body, dulling his senses. Roanya closed the distance between them until she stood in front of him, her thighs touching his knees. She slowly brought her hands up in front of her and moved them towards his body. He held his breath, anticipating her touch, but it never came. He looked to her face and saw a sad smile, as well as fresh tears, but wondered what had made her stop. Sandor, fueled by the effects of the wine, brought his left hand up to her cheek and wiped away the single tear that lingered upon her skin. She pushed her cheek into his touch and Sandor felt himself grow hard at her willingness to be touched by him. She did not flinch or tense or look repulsed instead she leaned_ into_ his touch as no woman had done. Later he could blame the wine for his words, if he remembered them, but for now he spoke without thinking, his only motivation the woman in front of him, who had come to be so near to him of her own will. "No other man will have you. On this night and any that follow it."

He brought his other hand to move her body onto his, her legs on either side of his thighs while her hands found his shoulders for support. Sandor brought his hands to her hips and pulled her down onto him, their clothes still separating their bodies. He felt her roll her hips, as if she could sense what he wanted, as his lips found hers. She could taste the wine on his lips and pulled away so that she could trace his lips with her tongue, using her hands on his shoulders to keep him from reclaiming dominance over their kiss. She still her movements, but for her tongue, and heard him let out a frustrated groan.

"Patience, love." She pushed off of the stunned man's lap, and his hands did not stop her. _'Love'? It's nothing. Just a phrase._ Sandor had been called many things but 'love' was something he never expected to hear a woman call him. She pulled him to his feet and only when he realized that Roanya stood before him naked did his focus snap back to her. She took her time undressing him, her hands running over places that Sandor didn't even know would arouse him. He felt as if she was memorizing every part of his form, but knew that she was trying to see him the only way she could. She handed him her dress, her voice husky as she spoke. "Drape it over the chair. Make sure you cover all of the wood before you sit on it."

Sandor didn't understand the strange request but followed her command anyway. Once he was seated again, he took a moment to simply gaze at Roanya's naked form. She had more girth to her than other whores, but was by no means unattractively large. He stomach bore the marks of childbirth, as did her breasts but that did not stop Sandor reaching his hands out and feeling her flesh against his palms. Roanya found she enjoyed the feeling of his calloused hands on her stomach, moving farther up her body to cup her breasts. She was surprised when he was gentle with her, expecting the painful squeezes that other men had given. She moved forward and his hands left her breasts to travel down her sides until they rested on her hips, pulling her the rest of the way to him. Sandor guided her back onto his lap and he understood why she had told him to cover the chair with fabric. _Wouldn't want slivers up my arse. I'll have to thank her for that later._ Roanya brought her right hand to his chest to steady her and her left found his manhood between their bodies. She felt him tense when she took him in her hand, and knew that she could wait no longer before joining their bodies, his patience nearly gone. He let out a nearly silent groan once she had fully sheathed him inside her and she gave off a moan to match.

She did not rock her hips, or move at all, but instead just sat atop him, feeling his erection throbbing inside her. She had been surprised to find that she was aroused and he slid in without causing her pain. She brought her hand left hand up to the side of his face that she had only briefly felt the last time they were joined in an intimate way. Sandor did not stop her as she ran her fingertips over the deformed flesh, only gripped her hips tighter. Roanya continued to discover what he had been so afraid for her to touch before as she rocked her hips slowly against his. Each time he tried to pull her faster, she would only go slower, driving him mad with need. She pushed the hair back from his face and laid her palm against his marred flesh, placing a kiss to his lips before she pulled away to speak.

"How did this happen?" He could have screamed at her in frustration. _Of all the times she wants to have a conversation she chooses now?_ Instead she pulled a groan from his throat as she increased the speed and pressure of her hips. She ran her thumb along his jaw, from his ear to his chin, before cupping his cheek in her palm. Sandor spoke, his voice strained.

"My brother." She was shocked by his answer and stopped moving her hips, waiting to hear his story. Sandor was already naked before her and she had already felt his face, so he found no harm in telling her a story that few had heard. "When we were boys he came to find me with one of his old toys. He said nothing before he thrust my face into a hot brazier and nothing after, as he left me screaming in agony." He saw her shed tears once again, and once again he wiped them away with his thumbs on her cheeks. "Don't shed your tears for me, Girl. I've caused more pain than I've received."

Roanya didn't want to think of what that meant, so she settle for placing her lips over his, her hands coming to grip his shoulders as her hips began a new rhythm. His hands explored her body and he did not try to control the pace that Roanya had set until he could feel his release building. Roanya let her mind go, and all of her fear and sadness and worry along with it, and only focused on the feeling of Sandor deep inside her. She had never ridden a man as she was riding Sandor now, and found that the sensations the position was causing were enjoyable. She heard Sandor's breathing pick up and felt his hands go to her hips, pulling her harder down onto his arousal.

His fingers dug into her skin and she allowed him to guide her hips, knowing that his release would be soon. She clung to his shoulders, frightened that she would be thrown off because of the frantic pace that had her sliding across his thighs. Sandor threw his head back as his own hips thrust upwards, spilling his seed deep inside of Roanya. She rocked her hips a few more times before he stopped her movements. She felt as all of the tension left his body and he sat fully satisfied beneath her. Sandor pulled his head back up to look at Roanya, pushing her hair back from her sweaty forehead as he took in her flushed appearance. Her hair clung to her glistening body, the shadows playing off of her face and the curves of her womanly figure and Sandor couldn't help but think her beautiful. His mind was still floating in ecstasy and wine, and so he spoke the very thing he had just thought.

"Beautiful." Roanya heard his whispered word and knew it was meant for her. She smiled at him, and Sandor simply stared at her knowing that even if he were to smile she would never see it. She pushed off of him and stood on shaky legs. Sandor stood as well, gathering his clothes from the floor. He gave Roanya his tunic to wear as he slipped back into his trousers. The pair walked, hands entwined, to the bed and joined the still sleeping boy on the soft mattress. Although the bed was big enough that they didn't need to touch while sleeping, Roanya had pulled Sandor to her and he didn't have the fight in him to pull away. Sandor curved his body around Roanya, mirroring her position around her son, with his arm draped across her hip and the smell of her hair drifting into his nose, as well as the after effects of his release and the wine, lulled him into sleep.

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This is the chapter that wouldn't end. I hope you all enjoyed it!


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